Blood On My Hands [Closed]

[Scoria]

SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC:} PM for entrance, I have someone lined up to join this thread now

IC:

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Scoria's expression was, for once, not glaring. His eyes were locked on the ground in front of him, his hands hung uselessly to the side, and his steps were heavy. Although the features of the player were as sharp as ever, the prominent feature of Scoria was not the ten-mile stare and frowning expression, but the crimson that dripped from his hands onto the ground. He wasn't walking on what anyone would call a main street, not by any stretch of the imagination. This was the so-called bad side of town and Scoria was familiar with it, turning corners without so much as having to glance up to reaffirm where he was. He just walked and moved and walked and moved and walked wherever his legs would carry him. The one busted door to his side, the one broken door on the street that had clattered to the ground earlier that day, was a reminder of what had occurred.

He continued to walk forward, taking a right at the first alley and taking a right again, walking carefully through the back alleys behind the buildings. This area wasn't any that people would normally visit, and it was for that reason he was here, walking up behind that one house. Behind the house with the broken door, Scoria leaned back against the wall and slumped down. Alraune was gone, of course. If she had been around, there was no way he'd be allowed to sit here and... mope. Was he moping? His hands came down to rest against the floor as his head tilted upwards. The sky had been clear a moment before, but he fixed that. The storm had been called and now, at least, the dripping sound had a new source.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

[Elkeid]

rattle rattle rattle

There were many bottles abandoned willy nilly around the city. Why people were so careless, Elkeid did not know. Having bottles personally crafted was a giant pain in the ass, so it was much easier to simply wash and reuse bottles. She was out collecting them for this purpose. Sorrel, thankfully, was out playing (killing monsters and questing) with a few kids his age, leaving her to wander freely across London. There were places that no child, regardless of their level or rank, should be running about unattended. Especially when said child often found themselves in Sorrel-esque shenanigans. The last time they split up to collect bottles, the Royal Guard got involved. Eight people were sent to the Cathedral that day, all adult males.

rattle rattle rattle

The burlap sack she carried over her should jangled and clinked as she walked, drawing a few stares from the common riff raff - Landers and Adventurers alike. The area she found herself in was not a nice part of London, and she was not speaking strictly appearance wise. As someone who spent a lot of her downtime in inns and bars, Elkeid picked up on many rumors, news and gossip. There were more than a few PK gangs hiding out in this district, as well as those that engaged in victimless crimes. At night, the windows of several buildings here would be lit with red lights.

rattle rattle rattle

Elkeid came to a stop beside a small pile of discarded bottles. Many of them were broken beyond repair, but there was the odd one out. She picked this one up and dumped out the spoiled liquor and garbage that littered it, and dropped it into the sack slung over her shoulder. A passing hooligan sneered at her as he walked by, but did not attempt to harass the woman. Although there were loopholes to avoid drawing the Royal Guard, Elk was more than capable of fending for herself, a fact that showed the confident aura she gave off. It also helped that she had a heavy sack of bottles to beat someone with if need be.

A homeless bum with one foot in the gutter and one hand around the neck of a brown bottle waved at her from the ground. Elkeid tossed ten gold coins in his lap, and plucked the half full bottle from his grimy little fingers. "This is mine now." The bum gave her a toothless grin as he dived after the coins, throwing a few solid punches at another bum that coveted his gold. Both were Landers with no shame and little to lose. ...Landers who were apparently not above stealing decent liquor. The contents of the bum's bottle did not smell like that cheap stuff the Landers or system made; it wasn't four star quality, either.

She was taking a swig from the bottle as she rounded the corner, and came to a stop when something wet dripped onto her from above. If someone was up on the rooftops and relieving their bladder onto the streets below...well, she hoped they had no intent of procreating. Elkeid held a hand over her head to shield herself from the unknown liquid, and quickly tilted her head back. Rather than spying an idiotic youth or drunk with their trousers around their ankles, Elk saw that the sky had turned dark with clouds. She was going to punch that Janna woman when she got back to her usual inn. 'Clear skies, my ass.' Lacking an umbrella, Elkeid had to resort to wearing her scarf around her head, leaving the long ends free to trail behind her.

The storm only got worse as she continued forward, though she also found what may have been the source - Scoria. So, it wasn't bad enough that he had to be a pest by making impromptu ice skating rinks, but now he had turned an otherwise nice day into a dour one? She supposed what they said about misery really did hold true: 'It loves company.'

Elkeid ducked back behind a tall pile of rubble, and carefully poked her head around to peak at the Druid. There was something off about him, and it was not the blood that stained his hands. Her opinion of Scoria wasn't high enough to think anything of it, but his behavior felt wrong. His trademark glare was missing, and now he was staring blankly up into space. Was this how he acted when he was alone, or was he genuinely upset about something? The latter almost felt concerning. It wasn't quite as disturbing as seeing Hiro or Sorrel down in the dumps, though. Either way, she was going to go over there and kick him in the pants until he was back to being his typical self.

The pile of rubble she was standing next to was suddenly lifted up into the air by roughly three feet, the culprit being a grumpy looking dwarf. He shot her a dirty look as he took his hovel and began moving it to another spot. Lander bums were funny little things. Her cover now scurrying down the alley behind her, Elkeid was exposed to whoever happened to be in the perimeter of the building. And, if the missing rubble pile somehow failed to give her away, the bag of clinking bottles would. The noise they generated made it nigh impossible to be stealthy.

Elk stopped within arm’s length of Scoria, and pointed one end of her bottle at his head. She was well aware that pointing was rude, but as far as she was concerned, using objects did not count. "Oi. I thought you were a turtle, not a turkey." There was a faint recollection of a small sprite sobbing and yelling out "Turtle!" She lightly shook the bottle from side to side by way of an offering. Alcohol was technically a depressant and would make you feel like shit later, but it was also good for dulling pain.

coded by benetnasch of ET

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Words:
1,001

Muse:
Skid Row

Notes:
I shoved in more words. e e

Tags:
Ruemia & Scoria

[Ruemia]

Click, clack. Click, clack. Click, clack. Click, clack.

Ruemia was almost certain she was lost.

Although the city’s layout was designed to match of the streets of London, they were still only reminiscent. But even if this version of the city had been mapped to exactly match the capital of England, she probably wouldn’t be able to tell a passerby where they were anyway. Ruemia never had a particularly good sense of direction, nor did she ever need to. The family had a personal chauffeur that took them everywhere: to the theatre, to social events, and even to the supermarket just down the road. And if she were to be completely honest, she most likely didn’t know how to navigate a map, either. Knowing how god-awful it would be to attempt to figure out how the streets wove into each other, Ruemia thought it’d be best to keep moving forward. Eventually, she’d bump into a lander that had the map of the city programmed into their mind, right?

Click, clack. Click, clack. Click, clack. Click, clack.

The heels of her leather boots clattered against the pavement, the rhythm of her steps unfaltering. Ruemia was always taught to appear to have purpose in her actions, so even if she was absolutely lost, and partially fearful of what hid in the dingier side of the city, she had to maintain her composure. It was disappointing to her that she couldn’t break out of these habits. Ruemia very much wanted to be her own person, but it was not easy to change – even for the betterment of herself. Where would she even begin? Her sense of direction was awful, and not just in the literal sense. How would she know what part of her actually belonged? How would she know whether or not she was making another façade because she desperately loathed the she one she put up now? There was no way to be certain.

Click, clack. Click, clack. Click-clank. Whirrrrrr…

Ruemia took a small step back and looked down. Rolling away from her feet, was a glass bottle. Not too far from her was another glass bottle. Glancing up ahead, there were even more glass bottles, littered across the ground. Bothered by the sound, and irked that she broke the eerie silence in the street, she hopped around the bottles every now and then, the tips of her shoes lightly tapping against the concrete in a broken pattern. Seeing an empty alleyway nearby, she continued to skip around to take the detour, hoping she’d find a clearer view of the main part of the town, or someone that could help her get there.

Nope. She was now even more lost than before. It didn’t help that all of these run-down, deserted houses looked nearly undistinguishable from each other, either. Ruemia let out a quiet sigh as she continued to walk, her hands carefully poised at her side, and her eyes searching the surroundings cautiously. Everywhere except down.

Suddenly, her foot caught under a rather large chunk of tattered wood, and she could feel the weight of her body beginning to fall forward. But of course, like any ojousama noblewoman, Ruemia’s other foot elegantly took another step over the piece of lumber, helping her retain her balance as she slid her entrapped foot out and skipped over the debris. Fortunately enough in the process, the fair-haired woman skipped over and found herself company.

Ruemia blinked in silence for a moment before greeting them. “Hello.”


Words: 582
Notes: 2lzy2tmplte
Tagged: Scoria, Elkeid

[Scoria]

Tags: Ruemia Elkeid
Words: ???
Notes: Muse

Rain had a way of washing everything away. Not just dirt and grime, but blood and tears. Not his, of course. The sound of water was a quiet comfort to Scoria, who had gotten used to his role as a druid and found comfort in nature. So when the water fell around him, he found it comforting. Red casually pooled around his hands and dripped downward, draining out what wasn't his and only leaving behind the crimson that continued to fall fresh. No healing spells to speak of meant that the healer in question just let his blood continue to fall until it clotted up. His eyes closed as he continued to face skyward, not at all concerned about the other sounds around him. Was someone going to come and kill him? He almost welcomed it.

But someone had showed up after all. The healer turned his head slowly to face the arrival, gaze questioning who would be fool enough to spend their time in these back alleys. Ah. Elkeid. Of course. The world had a way of kicking you when you were down, and Scoria supposed that he was no exception. He really would have been fine sitting in this back alley a little longer, but he had only gotten a few minutes of quiet solitude before trouble had come knocking on his door. Besides opening his eyes to look at the fighter, the healer simply sat there. Alcohol? That was a terrible idea. Scoria avoided drinking, especially outside the company of people he trusted, and Elkeid certainly did not number in that small group. He might have drank socially, but drinking out of emotion was simply asking to wake up with regrets, sometimes more than your shoulders would be able to handle. So he shook his head once and turned his head back in front of him, staring at the wall in front before closing his eyes. He smiled grimly, the expression not at all happy. He noted somewhat absently that the two times he had smiled so far that he could recall, Elkeid had been there both times. In fact, the first time happened in the building directly behind him. Elkeid probably hadn't noticed, but the house behind this one was the one Scoria had burst out of quite some time ago. He had run into Elkeid and Blackcoat back then, but the smile on his face had been different. The tone his words took were a bit more grim than usual, bordering on morbid. "At the moment, I'm-"

Homeless. He was homeless now, but he hadn't stopped because he was keeping that to himself. He had stopped because the thunk of what was unmistakably something hitting wood and the alarming lack of heavy steps afterwards had caught his attention. His eyes pulled open as he glanced over at the newfound company, ears pricking as he strained to hear what she was saying over the rain. No one was that... quiet after stumbling. If he were to be completely honest, it not only irritated him, it intimidated him. People like that put him on edge, because they never seemed to lose their composure, even when they tripped. The druid couldn't immediately tell whether or not this woman was of that type, but the possibility irked him. Her posture and everything about her put the druid on edge, but he lacked the energy to make a big deal about it. His ruby orbs took in her appearance further, wondering whether she was as two-faced as the people she reminded him of, before he let out a sigh. His sharp features didn't abate in the slightest and a frown marred his face, but both Elkeid and some stranger had shown up. Peace and quiet were probably now no better than a distant dream. Hello, huh?

More like get lost. Scoria strongly considered just raising his hand and telling her to get lost (as well as the directions back to the parts of town that didn't have people that wanted to slice your neck), but instead he let out a sigh. "Welcome... to the domain of the Ice Bitch." Glacial Freeze. Elkeid, who was one arm's length away, would undoubtedly be caught. Ruemia, given her distance, might have been able to step back and avoid it. It wasn't as though the ice field was dangerous, especially not enough to call the guards, but it was slippery and it was 10 meters wide. Coupled with the water that fell from the sky, the impromptu skating rink took no prisoners. Except for Scoria, who had already positioned himself so he was leaning against one wall and had his leg firmly planted against the other side. That would be enough to get the stranger to leave and perhaps, if he was lucky, Elkeid would carry the new arrival off somewhere else.

[Elkeid]

While Elk was harassing talking to Scoria, someone else came stumbling - no, that was not the sound of a shambling drunk tripping and falling over themselves in the alley. Elkeid may have had auditory agnosia, but the sound of clicking heels (or raptor talons, as she had called them as a child) was one she had acquainted herself with at an early age. Her overbearing governess had been fond of her heels, but was also noticeably heavy footed and fast paced. Her clacking heels against the wooden floors gave her away long before she could enter the room, which in turn gave a young Faustine ample time to scamper out the window or into her wardrobe. When your hearing teased you, you never could know for sure that the sounds of clicking feet were heels or claws until the owner revealed itself. It was better to be scolded than ripped apart by a velociraptor.

She obviously did not expect to see her aging governess when she turned to glance at the newcomer; the woman had essentially thought that video games were for slackers and nerds, and that free time was better suited for learning or physical exercise. That, and the young woman with the mop of white blond hair lacked the large, ugly scowl that was permanently tacked onto her governess's face. She was either lost or good at hiding ill intentions. Elk was leaning more to the former. Few people that frequented this area were polite enough to say hello, and those were usually brown nosing bums or fast talking con men.

Before Elkeid could ask the obvious question of "Are you lost," however, Scoria spoke up and referred to himself as the Ice Bitch - Scoriano. Scoriawai. Scoriaplz. The last time he'd called himself an "Ice Bitch," Elkeid had clung to Oxford like a tiny kitten. This time was hardly any different, but at least she knew what to expect. The only problem was (somehow) avoiding falling.

Elkeid instinctively threw out a hand, as if in an attempt to keep her balance or break her fall. The wine bottle she had offered to Scoria slipped from her hand as she swung her arm forward. That was probably one less bottle for her to profit from, but she was more focused on the fist that was embedded into the wall beside Scoria. Zoom Attack was a weird skill that stretched your chosen limb out like taffy, and at this close of a range it could not extend much further. What it could do was make up for the slack by shoving the Monk backwards a good meter, lengthening her arm as it did so.


One meter was not much in comparison to ten, but rather than flail about and make matters worse, she dropped down into a sitting position, cradling the sack to her chest and trying to ignore the cold biting into her backside. Could Scoria go anywhere without forming ice rinks? She responded in a language that Scoria should be quite familiar with: a single raised middle finger over the shoulder of her spinning body.

coded by benetnasch of ET

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Words:
519

Muse:
I'm the One

Notes:
(╹◡╹)凸

Tags:
Ruemia & Scoria

[Ruemia]

Indeed Ruemia did take a step back, staring down at the border of the makeshift ice rink curiously. The last time she went ice skating with her family was when she was an innocent, albeit spoiled young girl. She doesn’t quite remember how well she fared on the ice, but she could recall enjoying it. Figure skating might have been a sport she would have been able to get into, but because it isn’t very English, she doubted her parents would have wanted her to. It wouldn’t be surprising, anyway. There was little they approved of. Blinking at Elkeid who was currently spinning in circles after falling victim to the slippery surface, Ruemia glanced back down at the edge of the ice. Lifting the point of her boot, she cautiously pressed her foot against the icy, wet ground. Already, the fair-haired woman felt her foot quickly gliding forward. Her heart skipped a beat, while her eyes widened, fearful of falling face-first in front of complete strangers. How embarrassing and unladylike would that be? So instead of letting herself crashing down, she threw she arms out to maintain her balance, standing with the ball of her foot flat on the frozen water. She stood there for a good moment, with her arms fully extended outwards and fingers curving towards the sky. It almost appeared as if she was about to pirouette, had she not taken a small hop backwards to safety. Ruemia now looked over at Scoria, who leaned coolly against the building. Granted, he did not look like a very friendly chap – he didn’t look friendly at all. But he also didn’t look like he was lost. Surely he knew his way around. Figuring it would be rude to raise her voice, she wanted to try to properly greet the man. Even if that meant getting across the field of ice. Instead of taking a foolish step forward without any reinforcements, Ruemia unsheathed both of her rapiers and gripped onto them upside-down. Jabbing the tip of her blade into the ice, she brought herself back onto the smooth surface, pushing off ever so slightly – leaning into the sword to steady her weight. The swashbuckler began to make small glides along the frozen ground, piercing the ice with her rapiers in an alternating manner, using them as ski poles. As soon as Ruemia made it over to the tall male, she ducked her head in a short bow. She would have curtseyed, but if her hands unwrapped from the grip of her swords, she would have ended up like Elkeid. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ice Bi-“ The woman stopped herself and looked away awkwardly. She wasn’t quite used to vulgar words. By no means was Ruemia a chav. “I apologize, I don’t think I can call you that. Is there something else I may refer to you as?”

words: 479 tags: Scoria, Elkeid notes: Boooooooooooo.

MADE BY HABBUE OF GS

[Scoria]

Tags: Ruemia Elkeid
Words: ? ? ?
Notes: Muse

Seemed like it wasn't meant to be. Scoria's glare refused to recede in the slightest as he glanced at the spinning Elkeid and slowly turned to face the advancing Ruemia. It seemed like Elkeid had already gotten the idea, but Ruemia seemed... determined. The druid's glare deepened and, almost as if it reacted to the flare of his emotions, water began to fall harder and harsher. Get lost, woman. Didn't you understand? How could you not understand? The morbid expression on his face slowly shifted into annoyance and frustration, as his quiet time alone was being invaded. He just wanted to sit and mope. For once. For once, he just wanted to be alone, sit down in a dark alley, and mope. Back here where no one should have been, both Elkeid and Ruemia had shown themselves. It was clearer than day to him that Ruemia was being careful. Graceful. Elegant. Obnoxious.

So he turned his attention to Elkeid, scoffing under his breath softly. "Elkeid, you remember how we first met, right...?" He doubted that she had forgotten. After all, that one event had started all their antagonism to begin with. At the time, he had taken her to be some idiot who thought they were special and a hero of some kind. Something stupid. And that Blackcoat had certainly been no better, nor had anyone who showed up. They were all just single-minded people with a hero mentality and they hadn't taken any stock of the situation, but... Well, he had changed his tune a bit. He had spent quite a bit of time in Elkeid's company, often by complete accident, and in some ways found that she was not nearly as single-minded as she had originally seemed. She was... valiant. It was annoying to Scoria, and perhaps he could fault her for it if she was self-righteous, but she wasn't. She was simply misinformed. And Scoria...

He was tired of automatically bringing the full force of his personality down on people just because they weren't necessarily in the know about everything. There was a lot he could say about this. Ugh. There was too much to say and not enough ways to say it. He wasn't sorry and he wasn't going to change. He was just tired because he had gone and done what he had thought was the right thing, and as a result, he had become the villain. Typical. "That house is just behind us. And its residents... are in the hospital. As you can guess, it is most certainly my fault." Stereotypical. Horribly, typically, and disgustingly stereotypical. Since when had he taken up that mantle of the protagonist of a tragedy? It was stupid. It was seriously stupid. Still, for some reason, he was explaining. In the amount of time it took for Ruemia to get close enough to ask her question. "Anyway, I'm homeless now." Yeah, that was a great explanation. Top notch.

It explained so much of nothing. It just made him look like a douchebag protagonist with a sad story to tell and he hated it immediately. It seemed Ruemia had figured out the trick to getting across the ice, at least as far as non-combat went. The man's attention went to Ruemia, glaring sharply at her when she bowed. Don't do that. That was gross. That was downright disgusting. He wasn't supposed to get any respect. Didn't she hear? He was the Ice Bitch. He made people hurt. That was his job. All the heroes of every tale were supposed to be against him, because he wouldn't follow their self-righteous morals. She couldn't call him that, huh? Scoria's lips opened to respond with a flurry of altogether horrendous curse words and horrible epithets for himself. It was a slew of words that certainly couldn't be repeated on a PG-13 site and he listed them off one by one without hesitation before finally stopping and raising one glaring eyebrow. So many options for her.

Not that she'd go away that easily. One hand lifted quietly and then shot out towards one of her rapiers, stopping just an inch away from the blade. He had seriously considered it, just pushing her rapier out of the way and forcing her to fall flat on her face. He had gotten an inch away from doing it, but it wasn't the fear of the guards that made him stop. He just glared at Ruemia for a moment before thumping his hand against the ice and forcing it to dissipate immediately. The ice shattered underneath them before scattering like snow to the winds. Pleasure to meet me, my ass. "Ladies first, hero. That's Elkeid over there." Yeah, he still wasn't going to give out his own name. He just pulled his hand back and grumped, shooting Ruemia one of the harshest and merciless glares he could manage. Sighing, he turned back to staring at the wall before letting out a singular mumble. "Ash.

What do you want, sunshine?"

[Elkeid]

Elkeid skidded to a stop just outside the ice rink, feeling a bit dizzy from all the spinning. A kid like Sorrel may have had fun with this, but Elk was borderline nauseated. Perhaps it was this minor sickness that led her to believe that Ruemia was edging closer and closer to the ice, until she was practically standing on it, supporting herself with the blades of her swords. The world stopped tilting a moment later, though, and Ruemia was still on the ice, this time slowly making her way over to Scoria. Perhaps she was only taking advantage of the ice for sport?

The Monk watched warily as the Swashbuckler pushed herself around, only shifting her eyes away to glance at Scoria. She reflexively tightened her arms around the bag of bottles as he addressed her. "How could I forget?" She had… not been very wise that day, and had encountered Scoria roughing up some female Lander for reasons she was unaware of to this day. Blackcoat got involved as well, and came close to bruising his backside on the ground (which may or may not have been mostly partly her fault). She listened in silence as he went on, not surprised by the resulting story. The only thing she wanted to know was why? Assuming the people he hurt were housing him, why would he bite the hand that fed him? She could ask him to explain till she was blue in the face, but knowing the type of guy Scoria was… Not that it mattered. He had no home to call his own anymore. "Was it worth it?," she asked as Ruemia came to a stop in front of the man.

The girl would probably be fine, unless Scoria decided to kick her feet from under her or steal one of her rapiers. It's not like he could double up on Glacier Freeze, right? She inclined her head towards Ruemia the penguin as a sign of good luck (intentional or not, she was harassing Scoria and holding her own against him, therefore making her A-ok in Elkeid's book), and gently deposited her sack of empty booze bottles onto the ground.

She was dusting herself off when Ruemia popped the question - no, not that one; an appropriate name to call Scoria that was not a street moniker. Her hand missed its target when Scoria launched into a string of obscenities that would make a sailor blush. There he was again, showering the uninformed with his special brand of "charm". Why was she even surprised at this point? "Just keeping you on your toes," the line from an 80's horror film whispered in the back of her mind. Something about a man trapped on the ledge of a tall building… That same hand ceased swatting at her clothes to give Ruemia a brief wave after her introduction. "Wotcher." The "cheer" did not extend to her face or eyes. Faking a smile usually had horrendous results for Elk. This wasn't a very welcoming environment, was it?

coded by benetnasch of ET

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[attr="class","alkaid"]

Words:
508

Muse:
Blumenkranz

Notes:
MOOOOOOOO

Tags:
Ruemia & Scoria